Intro from the article:

Earlier this year, I was invited to travel to Los Angeles to talk about Canadian music as an export commodity. I was to speak alongside folks discussing music from Sweden and South Korea. This seemed like a fun idea at the time.

As a long-time music journalist and a jury foreperson for the Polaris Prize, I take Canadian music pretty damn seriously. Thirty years ago, I remember staying up late to see the Tragically Hip on Saturday Night Live—introduced by Dan Aykroyd in a shirt emblazoned with “CANADA.” I wasn’t even that much of a fan, but there was something in me that wanted to root for a Canadian band attempting to make it in the United States of America.

In population and pop culture power, Canada is dwarfed by our neighbours to the south, but we’ve been able to punch above our weight for some time. From long-standing legends like Joni Mitchell, Oscar Peterson, Neil Young, and Céline Dion to more recent luminaries like Carly Rae Jepsen, the Weeknd, Tanya Tagaq, and, of course, Drake, it’s not hard to think of iconic musical Canucks. My initial plan was to discuss the successes and shifts, the history and trajectory, of our varied and successful music industry.

But then US president Donald Trump indicated that he wanted to get his hands on the True North Strong and Free. I knew that Trump’s fifty-first-state talk was being taken dead seriously when Canadians started booing the American anthem. As people told me I shouldn’t cross the border, and politicians started acting like hockey coaches entering a third period down by a couple goals, I realized that my lighthearted plans for the presentation needed to change.

Canada has been neglecting our (excellent and varied) music scene for the past decade. A post-pandemic evaluation of the government’s Canada Music Fund revealed that revenues are down: album sales fell by nearly 74 percent between 2015 and 2021. And according to data from the City of Toronto, live music venues are disappearing, with the city shuttering 15 percent of these spaces between 2020 and 2021.

There was an increase in pandemic-related support funding, but also a concern that this funding is nothing but temporary. In addition, the Department of Canadian Heritage, which is responsible for significant amounts of music funding related to production, touring, and more, has plans to cut $64 million in grants and contributions by 2026/27. The Canadian Live Music Association raised the alarm around funding last year, calling for an increase in resources to provide support to music production, touring, festivals, and venues. Long-standing Canadian content regulations mandate contributions from broadcasters that go to initiatives that provide financial support for musicians, but airplay quotas that provide essential visibility for artists have become difficult to police in the internet age amid the rise of streaming platforms like Spotify and Apple Music.

At least the recently announced budget did extend a temporary two-year increase to the Canada Music Fund, offering $48 million over the next three years—there was also an unexpected announcement of funding to fuel a potential run for the Eurovision song contest.

With the US vocalizing threats to Canada’s sovereignty, cheering for Canadian music is less about hoping for our favourite artists to break through in America—it’s direct engagement in resistance. If we are all going to get those elbows up and fight a cultural war, we need to mobilize and strategize and consider what it really means to support music that is made in our own backyards.